Annabelle
That smell. That smell, intruding into her nostrils with its foul aroma. It had been in that vacant, lonesome, old house for almost six days. Jane inherited this house from her late grandmother, whose name was Annabelle. She was a wealthy woman with a very old mind. She had a reputation to maintain. She’d step on anyone on her way to the top. The house Annabelle lived in was almost as big as a mansion. She had furniture in it found in the Smithsonian. Annabelle had eight daughters, all from different men, and had been married seven times. As Jane walked around the house the smell got stronger and stronger. It appeared the stench was at its strongest when she walked outside in the garden. Annabelle had been gone for six months; the plants in the garden were decaying. Death was all around.
Annabelle would have been disappointed. That was her special garden; she would go out there with her eight daughters and each of her seven husbands. They would have tea parties, garden parties, birthday parties and Easter gatherings. Every daughter felt special, except for one. The one without the knowledge of her father. Every year she would cry in the garden at her parties, however her mother would always say her father was with her when she was in the garden. Jane decided to fix up the weeds and dead flowers. She tried her hardest to stay away from the ghastly stench. She worked her way around the area where the smell was the strongest . The area she left was bigger than she ever imagined. Jane could not even go near the little white table sitting in the yard, covered with bronze chippings of rust, right next to the roses and tulips. Annabelle used to plant those roses and tulips. She use to plant new ones every month. Her garden would always have a fresh and breezy fragrance. Annabelle used to have all of her daughters sit at that little white table, however at the time, it was designed and built by the most creative, and frankly the most expensive people in all of the country. All of her daughters would have portraits done at that table. All of the girls had the brightest smiles, all of them except for the one with no knowledge of her father. Her faces were always the same, as if she had seen a ghost. Her mother would always tell her it's ok, and that her father was always with her when she was in the garden.
Jane finally had the courage to dig up the weeds from the roses and tulips. The smell grew stronger and stronger. She reached down to grab a weed, but instead grabbed a hand. She jumped back, and screamed. She ran to call 9-1-1, investigators came to search the scene and dig up the rest of the body. Annabelle had one picture of the unknown father of her eldest daughter. The picture was never seen by the daughter. Apparently, the picture had been lost and never found. Jane looked into what appeared to be a grave and after thorough inspection, they found it was a man. After they lifted the body, Jane found a small picture covered in the dirt and filth. She cleaned it off. The eldest daughter never asked about her unknown father until she turned sixteen. She never really knew how her father died, or where he was buried for that matter. But, she knew he died. Her mother said, we always had a piece of him and he always had a piece of us as well. She also told her it was ok and her father was always with her when she was in the garden.
Jane cleaned the picture off and found that it was of a family. A family of three, a mother, a father, and a daughter. There was only one daughter in the picture. When Jane turned the small, delicate, brittle picture over, she found some writing. It said, ” My dearest Anthony, my sweetest love. I pray you will understand and forgive me as this was entirely necessary for my well being, and for our daughter’s as well. I could never achieve total and utter wealth and fame with love in my way. I would have not have gone anywhere in life if I gave it all up for love. I will continue to marry, so our daughter does not hold a disappointing status. However, you will always be my one and only. Love, Annabelle “ When the eldest daughter was about 20 years old, she asked her mother again about her father. She didn’t ask very much because she felt her mother would become very depressed. She only asked one simple question. She went up to her mother and said, “Mother, what was the piece of us that father still holds on to?” Her mother told her, it was that one picture, the picture that the eldest daughter had never even seen before and had been lost for so many years. Annabelle told her daughter she buried him with it, so that we would always be with him. She went on to tell her that the picture was of all three of them and the reason she does not remember is because she was only four years old. It was the only picture ever taken of all three of them.
Jane took the picture from the crime scene. She took it to her mother. Her mother was very elderly, she was 87 years old to be exact. Jane’s mother’s name was Alice. Alice lived in a nursing home and had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Jane was too old herself to take care of her. Jane walked into Alice’s room, sat down and said,” Hey mom, how are you? “ Alice answered “ Doing well. How about you?” Jane replied, “Fine, thank you! Mom, I was wondering if you knew who this little girl is in this picture?” Alice quickly answered, ”That is me! I am in that picture! I took that picture when I was four years old, I think! How did you get that? Who are you?” Jane replied quietly tearing up, ”Everything is ok. I am just a friend.“ Then Jane said her goodbyes and left. As she was walking out the door tears ran down her face. Tears filled with anger, disappointment, and regret. Later that night, Jane was staring at this small, fragile, paper thin clue. She stared for hours and hours. Then it hit her, like lightning! She had an epiphany, every little piece suddenly made sense! Jane went from a blank stare, to a shocked, open mouthed, pale face. Her eyes became dry as she was in complete shock staring at the wall. Her face was just as her mother's in every portrait as a child. That look, as if she’d seen a ghost.
Annabelle would have been disappointed. That was her special garden; she would go out there with her eight daughters and each of her seven husbands. They would have tea parties, garden parties, birthday parties and Easter gatherings. Every daughter felt special, except for one. The one without the knowledge of her father. Every year she would cry in the garden at her parties, however her mother would always say her father was with her when she was in the garden. Jane decided to fix up the weeds and dead flowers. She tried her hardest to stay away from the ghastly stench. She worked her way around the area where the smell was the strongest . The area she left was bigger than she ever imagined. Jane could not even go near the little white table sitting in the yard, covered with bronze chippings of rust, right next to the roses and tulips. Annabelle used to plant those roses and tulips. She use to plant new ones every month. Her garden would always have a fresh and breezy fragrance. Annabelle used to have all of her daughters sit at that little white table, however at the time, it was designed and built by the most creative, and frankly the most expensive people in all of the country. All of her daughters would have portraits done at that table. All of the girls had the brightest smiles, all of them except for the one with no knowledge of her father. Her faces were always the same, as if she had seen a ghost. Her mother would always tell her it's ok, and that her father was always with her when she was in the garden.
Jane finally had the courage to dig up the weeds from the roses and tulips. The smell grew stronger and stronger. She reached down to grab a weed, but instead grabbed a hand. She jumped back, and screamed. She ran to call 9-1-1, investigators came to search the scene and dig up the rest of the body. Annabelle had one picture of the unknown father of her eldest daughter. The picture was never seen by the daughter. Apparently, the picture had been lost and never found. Jane looked into what appeared to be a grave and after thorough inspection, they found it was a man. After they lifted the body, Jane found a small picture covered in the dirt and filth. She cleaned it off. The eldest daughter never asked about her unknown father until she turned sixteen. She never really knew how her father died, or where he was buried for that matter. But, she knew he died. Her mother said, we always had a piece of him and he always had a piece of us as well. She also told her it was ok and her father was always with her when she was in the garden.
Jane cleaned the picture off and found that it was of a family. A family of three, a mother, a father, and a daughter. There was only one daughter in the picture. When Jane turned the small, delicate, brittle picture over, she found some writing. It said, ” My dearest Anthony, my sweetest love. I pray you will understand and forgive me as this was entirely necessary for my well being, and for our daughter’s as well. I could never achieve total and utter wealth and fame with love in my way. I would have not have gone anywhere in life if I gave it all up for love. I will continue to marry, so our daughter does not hold a disappointing status. However, you will always be my one and only. Love, Annabelle “ When the eldest daughter was about 20 years old, she asked her mother again about her father. She didn’t ask very much because she felt her mother would become very depressed. She only asked one simple question. She went up to her mother and said, “Mother, what was the piece of us that father still holds on to?” Her mother told her, it was that one picture, the picture that the eldest daughter had never even seen before and had been lost for so many years. Annabelle told her daughter she buried him with it, so that we would always be with him. She went on to tell her that the picture was of all three of them and the reason she does not remember is because she was only four years old. It was the only picture ever taken of all three of them.
Jane took the picture from the crime scene. She took it to her mother. Her mother was very elderly, she was 87 years old to be exact. Jane’s mother’s name was Alice. Alice lived in a nursing home and had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Jane was too old herself to take care of her. Jane walked into Alice’s room, sat down and said,” Hey mom, how are you? “ Alice answered “ Doing well. How about you?” Jane replied, “Fine, thank you! Mom, I was wondering if you knew who this little girl is in this picture?” Alice quickly answered, ”That is me! I am in that picture! I took that picture when I was four years old, I think! How did you get that? Who are you?” Jane replied quietly tearing up, ”Everything is ok. I am just a friend.“ Then Jane said her goodbyes and left. As she was walking out the door tears ran down her face. Tears filled with anger, disappointment, and regret. Later that night, Jane was staring at this small, fragile, paper thin clue. She stared for hours and hours. Then it hit her, like lightning! She had an epiphany, every little piece suddenly made sense! Jane went from a blank stare, to a shocked, open mouthed, pale face. Her eyes became dry as she was in complete shock staring at the wall. Her face was just as her mother's in every portrait as a child. That look, as if she’d seen a ghost.
